The seized carriage was being swarmed by three dozen angry protesters. Near the eastern walls of the city where it had rolled into the clearing of longhouses, it lingered, the carriage driver swinging his horse whip in a rage to force back the assault. Gathering Erru stopped to watch the commotion. Atop the carriage spun a heavyset young woman, cursing with a drawn blade that looked small in her meaty hands. Her curses against them were drowned out by the mob’s violent protests. Two Jodai guards in green armor rotated angrily on the advancing commoners, threatening to cut open anyone who so much as touched them or the carriage.
Risako rummaged for an idea how the woman had managed to climb up there, and all the while the crowd edged closer to making those threats reality. Walking briskly beside her were Totane, Yosuke and, with effort, Bunta.
One of the guards, a huge man with plenty of stubble around his chin and cheeks and a deep booming voice, swatted at a couple. The woman yelled out in surprise while the man, recovering from the shock of near contact with his sword, bounced back with a shaking fist. “Bastard, you’d use that on my pregnant wife?”
“Do you have to ask? Now which one of you wants to be first in this bloodbath?” the guard bellowed.
“That’s enough!” Risako came to stand directly in front of the crowd, immediately drawing the attention of the guards. The commoners closest to her turned, gawking when they realized the screaming voice had come from a high noble lady of the Tabeni clan, none other than Tabeni Risako herself. The rest continued their antics, so caught up in their ruckus that they hadn’t heard her.
“I said enough! Step away from the carriage! Stop this nonsense and explain to me the reason for this disruption immediately!”
She had their attention now. Curious faces turned with annoyed expressions before landing on Risako. Hastily, they bowed and profusely apologized. “Lady Ginju, forgive us! We did not realize you were in the area!”
“Lady Risako, what brings you here?”
Risako pushed her way through the crowd and towards the carriage. How dare they fight like pack animals in our own city? The crowd eagerly parted. The carriage driver watched apprehensively, unsure who Risako would blame. The guards kept their eyes on the commoners as Lady Ryo began to speak. She had a congested voice that might normally sound jovial, but now sang bitterly of offenses.
“Thank the heavens for your timely arrival, my Lady-”
“What’s the reason for this disturbance?”
Raitsuchi Ryo made her best attempt at a bow while trying not to fall over. “Lady Risako. My sons and I have come from Dohoban on important business. We were just on our way to Lord Kenzen when these baboons started attacking us without rhyme or reason!”
“My lady,” a commoner said, bowing low. He was a middle-aged man with a large bald patch on top of his head and crowned with untidy wisps. “I am a local artisan with family in northeastern Agriculture. If I may, I’d like to explain the situation from our view.”
“Go on,” Risako said.
“Lady Raitsuchi here has come from her estate in the northeast after recently inheriting a swine farm from her father. We have strong reason to believe that through shady dealings, she has made herself exempt from being taxed on the property. Over two thousand swine, and none went to feeding the overpopulated and hungry common folk of the area. All were reserved for the traveling butchers who sell in the cities at a higher profit.”
Yosuke shook his head. “Is that standard act of business the only grounds you have to stand upon for such buffoonery?”
“Enough, Lord Yosuke, we’re here to mitigate the situation.” Risako sighed. “Your concerns have been heard. Disperse, and we give you our word that we will look into it.”
The crowd held their ground for a moment, then, grumbling, they went their separate ways. The man with the pregnant wife exchanged a few choice words with the same guard who continued to taunt him. Scowling, the man finally retreated.
“My heart cries out to you in joy, my lady!” Ryo said, sitting on the carriage roof. The guards moved to help her down. It turned out to be quite a feat, with her rambling as they struggled.
“Don’t mention it, carry on as normal,” Risako said.
“Pretentious pricks,” Bunta growled under his breath.
Totane watched the last of the angry commoners blend with the citizenry. “I wouldn’t have been opposed to beating some sense into a few of them for causing such a scene. They could have made their complaints through the proper channels.”
Yosuke nodded. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Lord Totane. Such incivility should not go unchecked, especially while we have guests from River in our city.”
Risako glared at them both. “Two wrongs don't make a right. Anyway, I’m going to start looking into the recent occurrences and legislation of Shujukin. Totane, I think you and I have a lot of catching up to do.”
*****
Sixth and Seventh Day led into First Day, third week of Fenn. Risako spent all three doing as much around the city as she could, in part because it was her duty, but also in part to keep the aching memory of her fallen brother, her other half, from her heart.
She avoided talking to Hedi about it. He’d lost both his parents, and she knew he could relate on some deep level, but right now, that was not what she needed. She needed to forget. To push past that gaping wound, or else she was sure she would fall to it, becoming useless and unable to continue.
She was glad when Hedi didn’t press the issue, though she sensed he was in some way bothered by it. He wanted her to talk to him about it, and he certainly didn’t like the possibility that she might be emotionally pushing him out.
It was no possibility, for that was exactly what she was doing; pushing others out, including herself. Perhaps she’d been unnecessarily cold with him in particular, but she would not allow herself to be swayed. Someone in her position ought to remain strong, so Risako made herself focus on the good things in her life, like Hedi, and how he knew exactly when to be there for her and when to give her space. She thought of her father, saved from the murderous hands of Ueko. Had things turned differently, had they been eternally separated, she was not sure how well she could have pressed on. Mostly, however, she made herself focus on the important things, like the division and frenzy that had spread across Agriculture in the short time they’d been absent.
Risako started by checking in with the tally-markers at the office of domestic affairs, which was near central administration. The place usually buzzed with people from all over Agriculture around the first of each month. When she entered, the clutter around the tables was being sifted through by sluggish clerks. Only tally-markers native to the city were present. She queried the projected votes for Toma. With eagerness at the suggestion of something more interesting, three men and six women filled her with their best predictions. It looked like the tax brackets in each class of Erru would remain stagnant for another month.
Next she looked into every recent and ongoing dispute within Shujukin and all the major cities outside it. She spoke to Chinya and Lady Hija, two council members who organized solutions to disputes throughout the province. The former sat next to Risako in one of the official closed off rooms of central administration, knees bent and hands on her lap. Hija read off the reports to Risasko from her floor table, her hair tied back in beautiful, elaborate knots. She was a plump, chubby woman, and her bookish amusement was made clear as she read them.
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There were minor ones; land disputes caused by droughts in the northeast, petty family squabbles in the west. None of these mattered to Risako.
“I’m interested in what’s caused the level of class tensions as of late,” she explained. “They seem to have escalated substantially since we left.”
“Oh my. It’s a trickle down effect,” Chinya answered, concern showing on her face for the first time.
“Trickle down? What do you mean?”
“Like most issues, it stems from tensions between nobles, of course,” Hija explained. She was the newest member of the council of judges, having barely touched forty, but she exuded the confidence and wisdom of someone with twice her years. “In fact, it’s apparently over a matter of treason that seems to have suddenly exploded out of proportion. Ten days ago, three high-ranking lords within Shujukin began accusing one another of pulling unreported money from our chief fund. Lord Kenzen, in particular, looks suspicious to a sizable portion of the city. He’s been accused by many commoners and even some lowborn nobles of having his tally-markers tweak the ballots to better suit his estate. However, a sizable portion of nobles have also come out and taken his side on the matter. Lady Ryo is one of them, who inherited her estate from the recently deceased Lord Daiyo.
“Lord Gen and Lord Tokuhei are also suspects, who I might note sent particularly few Jodai and trained common soldiers to the Hijimata hills. The two of them have repeatedly requested recounts for the entirety of last year’s votes. They’ve also thrown demands at each other to replace the missing funds. They’re not the only ones though. Lately, noble clans have thrown accusations at each other left and right. Everyone has someone to blame, it seems.
“You’re not the only one to look deeply into the matter. In fact, Tajehida Yosuke recently made a public statement, claiming every accusation so far has been preposterous. He believes the three suspected clans simply want to pull a bigger share from the funds while barely contributing to it themselves.”
“Given that he’s an advisor for Lord Kenzen, that can’t be good for Yosuke’s business,” Risako replied.
“He’s probably right though,” Chinya said. “If we’re going to move forward with our cause, we need to rid ourselves of any vermin while we’re ahead.” She was so much like Gon when she spoke, though perhaps more sophisticated. Tabeni Chinya was the one person Risako could trust, in some cases even more than Totane.
“Well, I’ll be looking into this further,” said Risako. “You’re quite happy with your new job, Hija. That’s good to see. How’s your father?”
“His arthritis hasn’t left him.” Hija grinned. “And he’s as obnoxious as ever when he’s worried about me filling his role. Ever since you came back, he won’t stop telling stories of you and your twin. The tale of the stolen teacup! He remembers it like it was yesterday. You were toddlers, trying to distract ‘grandad’ and steal his tea. Johori took the sugar while grandad chased him around, and you took off with his steaming cup! Father always believed you were the good one though. He said you were born with a mischievous twin because you were born into harmony, and the other was born into chaos.”
“I’ve been told the story,” Risako said, smiling faintly. “I think I’ll continue looking into the budget myself, see if there’s anything that’s been missed.”
She made a thorough examination of the province’s budget and current funds. Contrary to other provinces, the Republic was run as if an independent nation, and therefore operated on a larger level of centralized government.
Every Erru in Agriculture could be appointed a task by the Tabeni clan and the council of judges at any moment’s notice, but the citizenry exercised their own power through the voting system. Each city and town received their own vote concerning major decisions, while villages were grouped into the nearest city’s vote. Town votes were valued at one mark whereas city votes counted as two. At the end of each month, commoner votes were tallied together by district while noble votes were by clan. In the event of a tie, the highest clan of the city or region had final say. In the past, commoners could override decisions if they voted against them in sufficient numbers, but the highest clans convinced her father to change this rule. To Risako, it made sense to give preference to those who could make the most contributions.
Only nobles could be tally-markers. The chief fund and its various child funds were pooled from monthly taxes, and votes were cast for compensation and production. Compensation for the loss of any assets, belongings, loved ones or emotional damage caused for the sake of the Republic. Production, in order to allocate funds to the best people and industries for sake of the Republic’s momentum. The largest share of funds were always reserved for the highest of nobles as the largest producers of the economy. Nobles were also given an extra small percentage based on soldiers sacrificed to the cause or for soldiers sent to the battlefront against Tarshan. The Tabeni clan and council of judges had final say in all matters, counted the marks presented by tally-markers, handled disputes, kept track of funds, and had free reign to pull from them as they saw fit.
She was hunched over a table in the building’s basement now, a spacious cool cellar with groupings of coin bags and barrels lined evenly against the walls. The table was raised at the center of the room, topped with neatly organized scrolls containing written reports of every transaction, every modification to any one of the piles of money. If money came in or out, the reason was made clear in writing, which was then signed off by one of the seven members of the council of judges, who represented the seven pillar clans of Agriculture.
Looking into the documents, there was a sizable gap between the money they should have and the money they actually possessed. On paper, the sum read fifteen million gold empirical notes, twenty-six million silver pennies and thirty million copper bits. Based on the monetary activity of the reports, there should be another three hundred-thousand notes and fifteen-thousand silver pennies.
Either the judges and her clan members had been tracking their numbers half asleep or there really was corruption taking root. Originally, only three lords were accusing each other of such treason, which would have made it easier to know where to start, but according to Hija, every lord and lady was throwing the term around now.
It smelled of a rat. If all three lords began accusing each other at the same time, all three of them might be guilty, with one threatening to let their secret out. Then this would all be a distraction. It was the same conclusion Hija had probably come to, but with no evidence they could do nothing. They might even be completely off base. They might just be bad, overstressed accountants. Anyone could be corrupt, or no one.
By the end of her research, Risako felt a headache coming on. By Third Day, she was laying back in the training fields outside the city where men were sparring, watching a cloudless sky as wind ripped over her robes. Most times like this she would pace back and forth endlessly. This time was not one for pacing, for she tried to forget her troubles for peace of mind, elusive as it was. She stared into endless blue when she was interrupted by Tobirune. Her uncle approached with Aiya by his side. He’d just returned from dealings with Path province in the northwest, reviewing their spending on wheat imports.
“Risako, just the person we were looking to run into,” Tobi said. “Or at least a person. Totane would also do. What are you up to?”
“Wishing our problems were as clear as this sky,” she answered. “Totane hasn’t been much help lately.”
She looked at Aiya, who wore robes of dark blue silk. She was truly beautiful in her own way, dark hair free and flowing with a face that made her sometimes appear aloof. It suited her.
“Tobirune explained the current situation,” Aiya said. “In exchange for me listening to his asides, he took me to you. I’ve been meditating a lot lately and I needed to ask you a question.”
“Oh, my condolences then. What is it?”
Aiya peered into the brilliant abyss. “I remember when we were going through the forest on our way to Tsuisaka for the first time. Something you said keeps coming to mind. You brought up an old concept that I never gave much thought. That there’s a limit of power you can draw from your deity, too much and the mind reacts poorly.”
She met Risako’s eyes. “It took me a while to figure out that I was drawing on the river past that point without realizing it. I figured out shortly before our clash with the Rain Ginju that there’s a certain level of alignment, at least with the river, where I am so well connected with my deity that directing that power into myself becomes almost effortless. When I focus my attention back on the physical realm, it’s almost like a channel between me and the river remains open and power continues flowing into me, so to speak. Without completely shutting the river out, I’m forced to actively concentrate on stopping it. I think that explains why I used to struggle so much with retaining my own alignment. Sometimes I still struggle.”
“Ah,” Risako said, thinking. It was nice to have a different conundrum on her hands that she could help with. “Let’s see. I used to have issues with that when I was younger, but I got over it pretty quickly. If I had to guess, I’d say you have a closer connection with your deity than I have with mine. From watching you in action, you don’t seem to have any problems in a fight.”
“My problem is I need to be stronger,” she said. “To protect Ira. To protect everyone. If only there was a way to direct more power without breaking our minds.”
“Hmm. Sorry I can’t be of more use, Aiya. I’ve been so caught up in these ridiculous politics that I’ve barely had time to sleep.”
“I had thought you were sharp enough to have figured things out already,” Tobi said mockingly, though, as usual, Risako ignored him. “Have you at least seen Fuda lately? He’s the only one of Yko’s pack I can’t seem to find.”
Risako laid back, again facing the endless skies. “Apparently he’s on another diplomatic excursion to Stone. Men these days, they haven’t been of much use.”